My Desperado

By Lois Greiman

“Gushing over with humor and passion at it's very best! If laughter and love are the best medicine, My Desperado is a fountain of youth!” –Literary Times
A riotously hilarious and passion-filled adventure of historical romance in the Wild, Wild West…
The prim and prudish Katherine Simmons, a proper Boston schoolteacher, never expected to step foot in those godforsaken lands of the Wild, Wild West…let alone figuring out how to hide a dead body…
Katherine Simmons liked her life the way it was – predictable, boring, but safe. Innocent of the more earthly pleasures in the world, Katherine has never lost her head to passion and intends to keep it that way. That is, until this puritanical schoolteacher inherits a saloon – or what some might call a brothel – in the Wild West town of Silver Ridge. Refusing to step down from a challenge, Katherine leaves for Silver Ridge, with the plan of bringing some of Boston’s morality to the outlaw West.
But when the Mayor of Silver Ridge dies in the throes of passion right there in her saloon, Katherine tries to sneak his body out and is caught by Travis Ryland, a sexy outlaw. When the townspeople of Silver Ridge see them together, both Travis and Katherine are accused of murder and must work together to prove their innocence.
Travis Ryland expected a little trouble when he was hired by Silver Ridge to put an end to the payroll robberies at the mine. A little trouble, but mostly a simple job for a man with simple talents. What he didn’t expect was a beautiful schoolteacher from Boston to turn his life…and his heart into chaos.
Katherine may be innocent, but she’s willing to learn…and lucky for her, there’s a sexy outlaw more than happy to educate the schoolteacher…

• Language: English
• Publisher: NYLA
• Release date: Oct 28, 1994
• ISBN: 9781617508783

Lois Greiman

Lois Greiman is the award-winning author of more than twenty novels, including romantic comedy, historical romance, and mystery. She lives in Minnesota with her family and an ever-increasing number of horses.

Book preview

understand.

Chapter 1

Silver Ridge, Colorado

Dead? Katherine bolted upright in bed, her eyes wide, her mind still dulled with sleep. What do you mean dead?

Dead! Daisy squeaked hysterically. Dead as me shoe.

But he can't be dead, Katherine denied, gripping the bed sheet painfully in clenched fists. How could he be dead? He was alive when he came in!

Course 'e was alive, moaned Daisy, wringing her hands. You think I'd diddle a... She halted in mid-sentence. It wasn't nice to shock ladies like Katherine Simmons, and it certainly wasn't smart, especially since Katherine was her employer—at least for the moment. 'E was alive as you and me is, she assured. Livelier.

Then, did he fall? Katherine questioned, desperately trying to make some sense of it all. This couldn't be happening. Her life had always been so serene. So wonderfully predictable. Boring even, she'd thought three weeks ago when she'd been young and foolish. Now, however, boredom seemed to be nothing less than a synonym for heavenly. She shook her head, feeling as if her brain were rattling inside her skull like dry seeds in a pod. Was he ill? she asked weakly.

No. No, exclaimed Daisy impatiently. George was always 'ealthy and raring t' go. If you take me meanin'.

Then how... Ohhh! Katherine deduced dizzily. Daisy was merely pulling her leg. These westerners had a strange sense of humor. The little English tart may have a heart of gold, but she couldn't quite control her penchant for practical jokes. That was all there was to it. She was merely jesting. Don't tease me, Daisy, Katherine whispered hopefully, but the other's face was as solemn as a dirge.

I ain't teasin' y' Miss Katherine. 'E come late, as was 'is way. And we... Daisy shifted her gaze and pulled a face, trying to spare her new employer's sensibilities. Well, we done it right off, she continued nervously. 'Then 'e asks me t' wake 'im four hours after midnight. Said 'e 'ad 'im some important business t' see to. George, 'e liked t' feel important, she said, wringing her hands again. So I always fussed over 'im, 'y know. 'E was such a 'armless old gent. Drank a tad too much, 'e did. But... But I didn't mean t'... t'... Ohhh! she wailed, grasping for Katherine's hands. What am I gonna do? I didn't mean t'... I never thought 'e'd... she stammered, not quite able to complete a single sentence and squeezing Katherine's fingers even harder. 'E woke up early. In a frisky mood, 'e was, and wanted to 'ave another go at it. And I didn't know. I mean I ain't never... I ain't never killed any of 'em afore! she wailed in quiet terror. I ain't never. But just after we finished, 'e..."

Daisy paused, eyeing Katherine's ghostly pale face in the darkness of The Watering Hole's largest bedchamber. Y' don't look so chipper yerself there, missy.

I'm fine. Katherine's voice sounded as if it came from the far end of a narrow tunnel. Her eyes were focused on something indiscernible, and her heavy dark braid stood out in sharp contrast against the bleached whiteness of her modest, buttoned-to-the-chin nightshift. I'm just fine, she intoned ghostily. We Simmons are heartier than we look.

Daisy eyed her dubiously in the darkness and sincerely hoped it was true, for Katherine Simmons looked about as hearty as a crushed leaf in a windstorm. There was little time to worry about her, however, when there was an unsightly corpse lying nose up on the next room's bed linens.

What am I gonna do? Daisy whispered frantically. What if they say I murdered 'im? What if they lock me up? I'll never 'ave me own little 'ome with the picket fence. I'll never 'ave me a man to call me own. No little ones to love. Me 'ole life will a been fer nothin', just like me old pap always used to say. Ohhhh, she moaned. They're gonna 'ang me. I know they is.

Now don't panic! Katherine gasped, dropping the bed sheet to grasp Daisy's wringing hands. They're not going to hang anyone.

Daisy sobbed, her half-bared chest heaving above her hastily donned gown. What am I gonna do? I'm too young t' die. I ain't never 'urt nobody. Least ways I ain't tried. Ohhh, Miss Katherine, I don't want t' be 'anged. It'd be so 'umiliatin'—gaspin' and swingin' and—

Shush! admonished Katherine, feeling her consciousness waver and desperately grappling for lucidness. But emotional shock and lack of sleep conspired against her. Silence entered the room as her brain scrambled for sanity, then, We'll take him outdoors.

Daisy's mouth fell open, her eyes enlarging. She mouthed a few words, which failed to be audible then gasped, But 'e's dead!

I know he's dead, Katherine hissed in return. That's why we have to get rid of him.

But Miss Katherine. 'E's... Daisy leaned closer, whispering furtively into the other's pale face. 'E's bare-assed naked.

Katherine's hands fell away. Her eyes looking glazed, but Daisy's low, piteous moan returned her to reality.

Ohhh, I'm gonna be 'anged and fer nothin' worse than givin'a man pleasure.

Katherine refocused her eyes and brain with an admirable effort. Now quit that, she ordered. No such thing is going to happen. We're going to... She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands shaking like aspen leaves in a northerly wind. God save her immortal soul. We're going to get him dressed and take him out onto the street.

The street? Daisy leaned close again, her eyes round.

It'll appear as if he simply died of natural causes, Katherine whispered.

It was natural. Daisy nodded, causing her blond, disheveled ringlets to bob against her plump bosom. Ain't nothin' more natural than—

Her speech stopped with Katherine's palm firmly plastered to her mouth.

Please, Katherine whispered hoarsely. Don't talk. Let's just do what needs doing.

In a moment the two were slinking side by side down the night-silent hall. Dusky wall flowers nodded to them from the faded paper as they crept past, holding on to each other as if they would collapse without their partner's support.

Daisy's bedroom door creaked open. The women entered with trembling timidity, clinging together like wilting vines.

A small flame flickered from an oil lamp, casting wavering light across the bed. Katherine stole a glance in that direction. The corpse was blessedly covered with a wrinkled sheet, leaving only his balding head exposed. His complexion was a pallid gray, and on his face was a smile.

Katherine snapped her frantic gaze from the corpse to Daisy, who shrugged apologetically, easily reading Katherine's thoughts.

It was just after. Daisy nodded solemnly. 'E was feeling fine.

God help us, Katherine whispered shakily.

Amen, responded Daisy.

Katherine nodded jerkily toward the floor by the bed, still holding Daisy's hands in a petrified grip. 'Those must be his clothes."

Yes, 'um.

Daisy...

Yes, 'um?

Katherine's haunted eyes lifted to the other's face, her knees going weak and her stomach flip-flopping fishily. I can't do it. I've never... I've never... She gulped.

Daisy scowled for a moment before comprehension dawned, and her eyes widened. Y' ain't never seen a bloke naked afore?

Katherine shook her head, and Daisy straightened somewhat, feeling rather maternal with her superior knowledge.

There now, miss, she said, pulling one hand free to pat Katherine's and share her worldly wisdom. If the truth be told, there ain't that much t' see.

That knowledge imparted, Daisy studied Katherine's face for signs of relief but realized with a scowl that her employer looked only marginally healthier than poor George himself.

Now, now, Miss Katherine, she crooned, feeling stronger by the minute. I'll do the dressin' of 'im. You'd best sit for a spell.

No! Katherine shook her head in vehement refusal. There was no way on God's green earth she would be seated in the same room with a smiling corpse. Her eyes strayed foolishly toward the bed, but she shuddered and withdrew her gaze before it reached its awful destination. I'm fine. She drew a deep breath that rattled down her throat like an overloaded freight train. Remembering her father's words of wisdom, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Adversity is good for the soul.

Daisy scowled. It may be good for the soul, Miss Katherine, she theorized with a singular shake of her head. But it's 'ell on the pocketbook. The mayor 'adn't even paid—

The mayor? Katherine whispered, with eyes wide in shock and disbelief. You killed the mayor?

Daisy nodded nervously. 'E wasn't much of a mayor, but 'e tried, specially since the last sheriff run off. She shook her head, gazing kindly at the balding man. 'E was right lively in the sack.

Katherine's knees buckled, and she dropped weakly into a chair.

Now, Miss Katherine, we ain't got much time for swoonin'. P'raps y' could gather up 'is things now and swoon later.

Things? Katherine lifted her head to look at Daisy. What things?

George always 'ad 'im a walkin' stick and bowler 'at. Daisy turned to scoop the mayor's clothes from the floor. But t'night 'e 'ad 'im a satchel along, too. We'd best take it out with 'im, I spect.

I suppose, Katherine intoned weakly. Daisy was lowering the sheet, her movement quick and efficient now.

Where're we gonna put 'im?

I don't know, Katherine said, then stood and left the room to think without the distraction of the naked mayor.

How had this all come about? She'd only recently learned she'd inherited The Watering Hole from her aunt and had no intention of staying. But she couldn't simply throw the girls out of work, and so she'd remained in Silver Ridge while seeking a buyer for the saloon.

Who would have thought she'd be dragging a corpse out of her establishment only three days after her arrival there? She obviously was not cut out for this line of work. She'd have to sell the place and leave town, especially now. But the bright mineral that had inspired both the community's rapid growth and its name was rumored to be running low, leaving the citizens uncertain of their futures. There were no prospective buyers for a saloon in a waning western town, and the fact that public officials were dropping dead in the place was not likely to heighten interest in Katherine's property.

If she couldn't make some kind of profit off the place, she wouldn't have sufficient funds to return east. It seemed her employees hadn't been paid in over a month, and since Aunt Dahlia's bank account was notably emaciated, Katherine had felt compelled to pay bills from her own pocket, leaving her frightfully impoverished.

God help me! she whispered weakly.

The West wasn't merely a bold challenge, as the little novels had said. It was wild and unpredictable and scary and...exciting. It was true. The place was exhilarating and stimulating, but she did not belong here. She belonged in the security of a Boston schoolroom. But in order for her to go home, she had to first sell the saloon, and she could hardly sell it with a smiling corpse as bedroom decoration.

Katherine drew herself straighten She'd simply have to take things one step at a time, as she'd always taught her schoolchildren. And the first step was to find a temporary resting place for poor George.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Katherine returned to Daisy's room. Are you finished?

Yep. Daisy nodded, scowling at her handiwork. 'E's decent. Or decent as a man can be. Probably more so cuz 'e's dead. What now?

Across the street in front of the mercantile one of the steps is loose, Katherine explained. We'll leave him there. It will look as if he fell and hit his head.

Coo, that's a right good plan, miss. I knew you was a thinker, I did.

Katherine cautiously eyed the now dressed and grinning mayor. How do we get him there?

Oh that, said Daisy with a dismissive toss of her hand. Not a problem that. I been draggin' blokes about since me brothers got their first taste o' ale. Couldn't 'ardly leave 'em lyin' facedown in the mud, so I'd drag 'em off t' bed. Placing her fists on her hips, she eyed their burden. Course, they weren't so 'eavy like. But... She shrugged as if she was considering nothing more serious than an overloaded sack of flour. You take his feet. I'll take the other end.

They did just that, lugging poor George from the bed to plop him to the floor. Already they were breathing hard. Each woman now took a booted foot as they prepared to drag their burden out of the room, but suddenly Katherine remembered his possessions.

Right again, Daisy said, then hustled off to retrieve the good mayor's belongings. The satchel was placed on the man's chest, the hat crammed onto Daisy's own riotous curls, but the cane was an ungainly nuisance. She grappled with it for a moment then finally bent to thrust the thing beneath the waistband of the man's baggy trousers. It skimmed beneath his pant leg, settling solidly against his thigh, and Daisy gave a single nod before straightening with satisfaction.

Katherine, however, was shocked to immobility.

Daisy!

What? asked the other with a squeak and a start.

You can't put it there, Katherine whispered nervously. It's indecent.

And diddlin' 'im t' death ain't? Daisy scowled, pragmatic to the last. But any'ow, 'e's dead. 'E don't mind. And we're in a bit of a rush, aye?

The reminder was as subtle as Daisy could be and was the perfect means of jolting Katherine into motion. They heaved together, dragging George through the doorway and standing red-faced in the hall, drawing breath in deep gulps.

George, Daisy explained laconically, 'e liked 'is pleasures.

Katherine could only assume the other was explaining the mayor's rather ponderous form, but she couldn't help blushing nevertheless. After all, if old George had employed a bit more discretionary self-discipline, they'd all be a sight better off.

They heaved again. The hall was runnered by a worn scarlet carpet, which muffled the sound but did nothing to speed their progress. Eventually they arrived at the steps.

Katherine eyed the descent and grimaced. He was far too heavy for them to carry. They'd have to drag him. She closed her eyes with a silent apology. She'd come from a conservative Protestant family, where speaking ill of the dead was considered a sin. What would they think of dragging the same down a flight of stairs by his heels? She shivered, prayed again, and took a step backward, refusing to look as poor George's head bumped against the top step.

After a grizzly eternity the threesome was outside. The street was still quiet. A grinning full moon sliced out from behind a dark, bubbling cloud, casting its spooky light upon the shadowed town. The women shuffled backward down the boardwalk, crossing the hard-packed clay of Silver Ridge's main thoroughfare and reaching the broken step with a lurch and a groan. Their breathing was labored, their muscles aching, but they'd reached their destination.

We've done it. Katherine paused, still trying to catch her breath. Now we have to make it look like a natural fall.

Right-oh. Daisy grasped the walking stick to pull it from George's pants. Katherine shuddered and snatched his hat from the tart's head, placing it just so, a short distance from the corpse.

The satchel, which had caused them a good deal of difficulty by insisting on sliding from the sloping plane of George's chest, was now placed just out of reach of his hand.

The women stepped back a pace, studying their handiwork in the waning light of the moon.

What do you think? Katherine asked, nervously twisting the heavy black braid that had fallen over her shoulder.

'E looks right peaceful t' me, Daisy whispered, hands on hips. Y'd never know 'e was drug from there t' 'ere.

You think not? Maybe we should turn him over. Maybe--

Maybe, a deep voice from the shadows suggested, you should wipe that grin off his face.

Chapter 2

The two women gasped in unison, clutching each other with frantic fingers.

Who are you? Katherine demanded in a whisper not loud enough to shake the dew from a dandelion puff.

Silence held the street in its chilly grip, but finally was broken by a smoky voice. Can I give you ladies a hand?

Katherine mouthed an inaudible response, found her voice with great difficulty, and squawked, This isn't at all as it appears.

The shadow's head tilted, proof he was looking at the corpse then straightened again. And how does it appear? he asked in a tone deep as the night.

Well... Katherine could feel herself tremble. They'd been caught dead to rights. God help them! And she was barely able to raise her voice above a murmur in her own defense. Well it might look as if... She was completely out of her depth.

To date, her most traumatic experience had been when little Johnny Tensel had put the toad in her coat pocket and the entire classroom had erupted into howling chaos when she'd fainted dead away.

She wished she could faint now, but her consciousness was stubbornly intact. It might look as if... she began again, swallowing hard and glancing, against her will, at the ghoulish corpse.Well... How does it look? she sputtered suddenly.

If she wasn't mistaken, the shadow chuckled, the sound so deep and quiet she had to cock her head to catch just a whisper of it.

It looks like he's dead, came the response finally. Real dead. The shadow approached a step, causing the women to retreat cautiously backward, still gripping hands in desperate terror.

Oh! Her mother had been right, Katherine thought in frenzied retrospect. She should never have read those dime novels about the heroes of the West. She should have married Edgar Winston when he'd first asked and should never have left Boston. Well yes, actually, she admitted with a spasmodic nod. He is dead. Quite dead, I'm afraid. But we aren't responsible. She was breathing hard and wishing she'd had those twelve babies of Edgar's, even though he was potbellied and holier-than-thou.

There were worse things than being married to a sanctimonious stuffed shirt.

Being hanged for instance. Being hanged was at the very bottom of her list. I mean, Katherine continued, we are responsible, but we didn't mean to do it.

Looks like he died happy, said the dusky voice from the darkness.

Katherine scowled, canting her head again and wishing to God she could see his face. I beg your pardon.

He died happy, the shadow repeated. I can only assume one of you two should get the credit for that.

Daisy and Katherine turned face-to-face, seeing the identical mixture of horror and confusion in the other's expression.

Which of you was it? he asked quietly.

The women's eyes widened to an even greater extent.

Daisy moaned in silence. She'd never see that picket fence, never have babies and give them a better life than she'd known.

Poor Mother, lamented Katherine in anguish. She'd die of shame when she learned the truth of her daughter's demise. But it had been Katherine's decision to accept the saloon as her inheritance and with that the responsibility of looking after her employees.

Me, they said in squeaky union, each courageously trying to save the other.

Who? The stranger's tone was mildly surprised, and the two women turned inward, each telepathically ordering the other to silence before staring at the shadow again.

Me, they echoed a second time.

Riding double? intoned the stranger, taking a step forward and seeming to grow in size as he nodded briskly toward the corpse. He was a lucky man.

The women squeezed closer together, backing away, with Daisy moaning a bit in utter mental anguish. She'd held so tenaciously to the hope of a better future.

Katherine felt Daisy's emotional agony like a stab in her conscience. Her own life had been so uncomplicated that she'd fantasized about enduring and miraculously overcoming the hardships of the West. While Daisy on the other hand, had never been given a chance at a decent life. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right, and Katherine couldn't bear to have her take the blame for a death she hadn't meant to cause.

It was my fault, Katherine blurted. All mine. But I didn't kill him.

'E died o' natural causes, chimed Daisy. Real natural.

The stranger tilted his head slightly. There's nothing more natural than—

Please, sir, interrupted Katherine, frantically hoping not to hear the word he was about to say. There's been no foul play here. I promise you I—

It ain't none of my concern.

Utter silence gripped the place, then, What? both women questioned numbly.

I'm in town to conduct business and get out. What you ladies do to entertain your friends is none of my affair, assured the whiskey-voiced stranger.

Katherine knew she should be grateful. She knew God had saved her foolish skin, and she should chant salutations of praise and promise everlasting holy servitude. But he's dead, she said abruptly, somehow appalled by the man's callous acceptance of the situation. Dead.

Looks damn dead to me, remarked the shadow dryly. So if you ladies will excuse me, I'll leave you to your diversions and see to my business. He turned slightly, ready to leave.

Katherine was shocked speechless, while Daisy, made practical by circumstance and a strong desire to survive, pulled her hands from her employer's grip and took a pace forward.

That's specially kind of y’ stranger, she called, smoothing a hand down her waist to her hip. P'raps I can repay the favor.

The man stopped, pausing a moment before tipping his hat. I appreciate the offer. But I only have a couple of hours before my business appointment, and I can see a woman like you would deserve more time.

Daisy, flattered by the words spoken in a gravelly, seductive tone, straightened her back. After yer business?

It's unfortunate, but I'm meeting a man and then I leave.

Cooo. Daisy cocked her hip in open invitation. Seems a pity. But maybe at a later time. What's yer name, stranger?

Quiet held the street.

Ryland, he answered. Travis Ryland.

God save us! Daisy's sudden desperate plea was no more than a whimper. Y've really come, then. God save us! She stumbled backward, but Katherine caught her about her hunched shoulders.

Daisy. What's wrong? What is it?

Ryland! the woman whispered, raising a limp hand toward the towering shadow. It's really him! The one they calls The Ghost.

Katherine had never heard of Ryland, The Ghost, but could guess by Daisy's response that his presence there was not good news for them.

The large shadowy figure had gone perfectly still.

Don't 'urt us, pleaded Daisy.

The shadow flexed. I've sworn off eating helpless little soiled doves, he said.

What do you want here? Katherine whispered.

It's none of your concern. My business is with the mayor.

It felt as if Katherine's very life was seeping from her body onto the darkened street. Daisy was slumped beside her like a broken doll.

Mayor? Katherine's voice was so squeaky and weak that Travis had to step forward to hear her, and it was with horror that Katherine learned she had no strength left to retreat. You're here to see the mayor?

Ryland loomed closer, towering over her. She saw his face was bearded, and his eyes shone down from just below the rim of his hat.

Do you know the mayor? he asked, his voice slow, dramatically deep, and cautiously quiet.

Know him? Katherine asked, hoping to buy some time. In what sense do you mean?

She doggedly refused to allow her gaze to stray to the smiling corpse. Sweat had suddenly appeared on her shaky hands, and a quiver shook her voice. She didn't want to die on a dusty street so far from home. Maybe she'd been all wrong about adventures. Right now her once thrilling dreams seemed frightful, terrible things that made her quake from the inside out.

Do you know him? repeated the stranger. Biblically, or otherwise?

Katherine's mouth opened to respond but she could think of no clever lie.

No. She shook her head. No, I didn't know the good mayor.

You didn't know him? The man took a step nearer. You didn't know him?

I mean... Katherine failed again to back away, though Daisy had slipped behind her and was tugging weakly at her nightshift. I mean... I don't know him. I don't! She shook her head again. There'd be no need for him to shoot her. She was going to die of sheer fright right here on the spot.

The moon eased from behind a silver-gilded cloud, laughing at such human melodrama and casting just a glimmer of light on the deadly stranger.